Wonky Weather
by Chachaxo
Summary: Somehow, Blaine always seemed to find himself at the Hummel house when the weather went a little wonky. Several one-shots
1. Chapter 1

Somehow, Blaine always seemed to find himself at the Hummel house when the weather went a little wonky.

It was _hot._ Like really, really, _fucking_ hot. The kind of hot where a sheen of sweat turns to literal standing water on your stomach. Hot enough to cook you alive at even the smallest suggestion of leaving the air conditioning behind to foolishly brave the unknown fiery world beyond. So hot you could _hear_ the hum of the temperature and its energy outside.

Three boys lounged in a dim, sweltering basement, silent with the effort of merely surviving another breath in the oppressive space. All three of them were shirtless and appeared somewhat damp, although whether that was from sweat or a recent dip in the pool was unclear.

Finn laid spread eagle on the cement floor, hoping to drink up just a small amount of its cool surface. He was staring into space, unable to voice any kind of coherent thought beyond UGH and HOT.

Kurt was half-sitting on, half-falling off a couch in the middle of the room. Although fairly scantily-clad in just navy swim trunks, he managed to maintain an air of upmost style and sophistication. His cheeks were flushed pink, and his usually-styled hair looked effortlessly and perfectly disheveled.

Blaine occupied a chair to left of Kurt, feet in the air, head dangling upside down. His mouth was open in a sort of pant, eyes lolled to the back of his head lazily. His arms were stretched out behind his head, allowing himself to drop his dapper exterior in this extreme circumstance. He could just make out Finn, looking rather upside down himself from this angle, on the floor on the other side of the coffee table. He turned his head to the right a little, relieving a crick in his neck, and caught Kurt's eye, winking. Kurt blushed and smiled, but held his gaze.

The eye contact made Blaine's heart flutter a bit, and then made him break into a full grin, earning a cocked eyebrow from Kurt.

The three of them had been futilely searching for relief from the heat all day. It had been hot for weeks, that August before senior year, but the air conditioning at the Hummel house had broken a few days before. _Not that I really blame it_, Blaine thought. _It's probably exhausted. _Burt had promised to fix it as he and Carole had hurried out the door to work that morning, but that still left Finn, Kurt and Blaine eight hours of misery to get through. Somehow, the thought of abandoning what had become their daily routine of hanging out at Kurt and Finn's for the respite of Blaine's or one of the New Directions' houses hadn't occurred to them.

Blaine arrived shortly after Burt and Carole had left, finding Kurt and Finn in the kitchen, both still in their pajamas

"C'mon, guys! Get yourselves together! We don't want to sit around in this sauna all day. Get dressed! We're going out!" Kurt and Finn looked first at their familiarly enthusiastic Blaine incredulously and then at each other, and rolled their eyes as if to say _Yeah, right. Just wait till the heat gets to your head like it has ours. _Incidentally, the heat did get to Blaine pretty quickly, and all motivation to look presentable enough to get their behinds out of the house was forgotten. They had spent most of the morning watching TV and eating popsicles.

Eventually, though, this ceased to hold their collective attention. Finn wandered off, muttering something about a shower and cold water. Kurt flipped to the weather channel, only confirming what they already knew.

"It's hot." Kurt sighed and flopped down next to Blaine.

"You're hot," Blaine said cheekily, not too sapped to pass up an opportunity to make Kurt embarrassed or annoyed. Plus, he really did think Kurt was hot.

Kurt giggled a little. "Right back atcha, stud." He could be mischievous too, if he wanted. Blaine sat forward a little and kissed his cheek.

The effects of the heat returned to wreaking havoc on Kurt. "I'm hot," ("In both ways!") "and bored. This sucks." He pouted, a little for his own benefit, to make himself feel better, and a little for Blaine's, to give him something amusing to look at.

"Oh, stop complaining!" Blaine chided jokingly. "It's summer, we're in love, and we've just established that you are very hot. Ooh, and," he added as an afterthought, "we are basically totally alone right now. I can think of something that will both cure your boredom and make use of your hotness. At least for me." He smiled deviously, but also had a hint of real suggestion and questioning in his eyes. He waited for Kurt to roll his eyes and then nod before leaning in and capturing his lips in a languid kiss.

They stayed like that for a short time, comfortable and contented, neither of them wishing to end their contact, but neither of them able to muster the energy to deepen the kiss either. Just as Blaine realized the dizziness he was feeling was coming more from the heat (weather, not passion) that threatened to swallow them again than from the heat (passion, not weather) coming from his gorgeous boyfriend's supple lips, he felt Kurt place a hand on his cheek and pull away.

"Blaine, I—"

"Ugh, damnit. I know. It's way too freaking hot for this. My body is giving me such conflicting messages right now," he groaned, and leaned back against the couch, mood ruined.

"Sorry babe," Kurt said. He rested against Blaine, back to chest, before quickly sitting up as he was met with the 98.6-degree reality of another person. Unfortunately, physical contact, one of their favorite pastimes, was going to be out of the question for the day.

Blaine gave him a small smile. "I love you."

"I know. I love you too."

"I know."

And so they contented themselves with sitting on opposite sides of the couch, facing each other, occasionally brushing toes, chatting about this and that. Mostly, it was enough for them to just enjoy each other's company.

After Finn reappeared, apparently with a new lease on the day ("Seriously, you guys, the water felt so good. You should go take a shower." Blaine waggled his eyebrows suggestively and Kurt kicked him.), the three of them decided to actually move their asses and do something. The only logical choices of destinations were either the mall, where they could find some measure of a/c, or the pool, where they would at least be submerged and hidden from the unrelenting inferno.

As none of them seemed to have any disposable income to speak of, they opted for the pool. Armed with sunscreen and towels, they trudged the two blocks to the community center.

"You know," Kurt mused, "it actually feels a little better being outside. It's not so stifling, and there is a bit of a breeze." Blaine hummed in agreement and linked their hands. Maybe things were looking up.

Finally, sweet, sweet release. They splashed and played, laughed and joked. Their faces became animated and their conversations became rational. Hours passed without mention of their once and future discomfort. But eventually, all good things must come to an end. The pool deck was closed down for cleaning, and the teenaged boys remembered that they were teenaged boys and very, very hungry.

They were able to at least partially extend the coolness beyond the reach of the pool-side gates. As the walk home loomed, they still dripped with chlorine, barely noticing the sun beating down from its midday post. When they entered the kitchen, banging around the cupboards looking for sandwich makings, the dampness of their swimming suits carried them a little further without succumbing to the distress. But by the time they had all three scarffed down their lunches, the dry air had stolen all the remaining water trapped in their shorts, and now they were just _hot _again.

Someone managed to remember that heat rises ("To the basement!"). That is how they found themselves in their current positions: full, tired, foggy, and positively roasting.

They were quiet at first, all three of them just trying to digest their lunch. Finn was the first to break the silence.

"Smuh hunda."

"Um, huh?"

"I'm s'hotttt."

Blaine, apparently feeling a little better, responded: "Kurt's hot."

"Blaine, ew. That's my brother."

Kurt only rolled his eyes at the typical display of each boy's distinctive, annoying, but endearing personalities. "New rule for the day. No matter how high the temperature climbs, no one is allowed to say the word hot again."

Finn and Blaine reacted at the same time.

"Oh, Kurt, come one. You've been complaining just as much as me all day. Don't even pretend you haven't been."

"Fine, then. Kurt's sexy." He sounded stubborn but sincere.

"Dude, I said ew!"

"Oh, chill, Finn," Kurt said.

"I wish it were chilly! This blows!" And Finn disappeared for the second time that day, pushing himself up from his spot on the floor with a loud _Harumph_.

Kurt shot a glare at Blaine, warning him to ignore all the dirty-comment possibilities with that last statement from Finn. "Don't you dare."

Blaine flipped his legs over so he was sitting right-side up on the chair, and then thought better of it, tossing his legs over one arm so he was sideways. He really, really wished it weren't so stuffy. Kurt looked absolutely delectable.

As if on cue, Kurt also shifted his position so he was lounging more comfortably.

Conversation turned to the random and strangely deep topics complacency and resignation brings. They knew it was hot, and that wasn't going to change, and, per Kurt's instructions, they couldn't mention it anymore, so they decided they might as well just enjoy their time together. It was nicely light-hearted, but still truly felt. They talked about everything under the (scorching) sun: the Warblers and New Directions, the movie they had seen last week, Blaine's sister's upcoming wedding, Carole's new job. They recounted funny stories of their times spent together and apart. They touched on their thoughts about God, politics, and philosophy. They told each other long-lost memories from their childhoods. They even ventured into the scary and exciting subject of plans for the future.

They tiptoed safely at first, wanting to both subtly convey their desire to spend at least some of that time together, and also not wanting to scare the other off by assuming anything. Blaine was able to tactfully express his dreams for college, and Kurt told him about his plans of deftly decorating a house to his exact specifications.

This sparked a thought in Blaine, and they veered off-topic, the way winding and agenda-free conversations tend to do. "Oh, that reminds me! Sadie and Brian are going to hire me to paint their apartment after they move in. It works nicely for both of us—they get the job done cheaply, and I could really use the cash." Blaine loved his sister, and he knew Kurt liked her too. He relished in being able to relay information about his two favorite people to each other.

"Mhmm," Kurt agreed. "That is nice. Siblings are good for stuff like that. I didn't really get it until Finn and I were living together, and I know we're not really related or anything, and it's only been like two years, but there's a definite camaraderie, you know? And we help each other and keep each other company, and help each other survive our crazy parents, and—" He was breathless at this point, trying to justify his feelings about Finn after realizing the bond they had was probably not as deep as Blaine and Sadie's.

"Kurt," Blaine interjected knowingly. "Finn is your brother. Definitely." He sounded sure and as if the judgment was final.

"Yeah." Kurt smiled.

Blaine reached out a toe from the chair to tap Kurt's calf on the couch. "In fact, I hope our kids can be as lucky to be as good to each other as we've been to our siblings." Kurt's smile faltered slightly.

"Um, what?"

"N-nothing," Blaine stuttered. He could feel beads of sweat running down his neck, but whether that was from the heat they were trying to ignore or the panic he couldn't ignore, Blaine couldn't tell.

"Blaine," Kurt pronounced slowly. "Blaine, what did you say?"

_Shit_, Blaine swore. _And we had been doing so well, sidestepping anything uncomfortable. _"I just, I said, I mean, you know, I really think my sister is great. And you and Finn are great. And so are other people, er siblings, that I know. And someday, a long, long time from now if I maybe possibly have kids, I hope they like each other. I hope they're friends." He avoided Kurt's eyes, toying with a loose thread, embarrassed beyond belief. Kurt didn't respond, only looking rather confused and amused. Blaine wondered if he should keep talking and explain himself further, change the subject, or wait for Kurt to say something.

Blaine could feel the sweat on the back of his neck continue to drip, but he just wanted to be able to look Kurt in the eye again.

"Oh, hell Kurt, fine. I love you. I can be honest about this. I think we can do this. We're both in for the long haul. And for me, the vision of my perfect future would include you and maybe some kids. There, I said it. I want to have kids with you."

Kurt turned and they finally made eye contact. He looked so innocent, so happy, so hopeful, so excited, that Blaine thought _Oh, screw the damn heat, _and launched himself forward so they were holding each other. Kurt caught him as he reached the couch and whispered into Blaine's bare shoulder, lips brushing skin, "Well, duh. Of course. I want to have kids with you too." Kurt pulled away, hands on Blaine's shoulders. "But not for a while. Like a long, long while."

Blaine was so relieved he giggled and pulled Kurt back into their hug. "I know. Trust me, I know." He shook his head. "I don't think we need to worry about any of those specifics right now. I just want you to know, if you're down, I'm down. But we can see how things go." He kissed Kurt's forehead. Kurt could only smile and nod, speechless.

A bang and a rude word sounded from upstairs, breaking the boys out of their reverie. "Hello? Is anybody here? I'm home!" they heard Burt call from the entryway, along with something like "stupid door, could have killed me…"

Blaine sat back on his haunches, surveying Kurt's face. "We good?"

Kurt squeezed Blaine's hand. "We're always good, darling."

Blaine kissed his cheek at the pet name and pulled them both up from the couch. "C'mon, let's go get your dad to fix this freaking air conditioning."

"Baby, you read my mind," Kurt said lowly, jokingly, fake-seductively.

And so the evening passed much more pleasantly than the morning and afternoon. (Although Blaine thought his afternoon had been very pleasant, thankyouvermuch.)

The air was fixed, with much clamoring and swearing. Burt and Kurt did most of the technical stuff. Blaine and Finn could only pretend to help, the former doing his best to not stare a Kurt's ass as his bent over the broken console (and then failing miserably to keep his eyes averted and not really feeling too badly about it,) and the latter nodding and humming at opportune times, occasionally handing over tools or supplies ("No, Finn, that's a wrench, not a pliers.").

Blaine stayed over for a nice, cool dinner of grilled chicken salad. Carole almost always invited him to stay for dinner, and in turn, he almost always accepted. Her cooking was delicious, and he loved the excuse to spend even more time with Kurt (playing footsie under the table, careful to avoid any other unsuspecting occupants at the meal). Mostly, though, Blaine liked the feeling of family he felt when with the Hudson-Hummels. He was warmly welcomed into the fold, and their family dinners were much more loving (and loud) than the ones he rarely shared with just his parents now that Sadie was gone.

When the sun went down and the temperature went with it, the whole family sat outside in the breeze, talking for a while. They had to disperse when they became snacks for the mosquitoes. Finn retreated back to the basement to play video games ("It's still cooler down there than out here, ok?"), and Burt and Carole to bed ("Out by curfew, right Blaine?" "Right, sir!"). Blaine and Kurt also headed inside, finding themselves in Kurt's bedroom for the first time all day.

They were quiet until the door was closed and then flopped onto the bed in a familiar position. Blaine sighed and kicked his shoes off, then leaned back against the pillows and crossed his legs on the bed. Kurt followed suit, laying his head down on Blaine's chest just as Blaine put his arms behind his own head and then pressed a soft kiss to the top of Kurt's head.

"This feels so much _better_," Kurt breathed.

"Mhmm." Blaine traced wide circles on Kurt's back.

"I am never living in a place where it is that hot all the freaking time. I just couldn't handle it. I need the change of seasons," Kurt said. "And to not suffocate daily," he added snarkily.

Blaine chuckled. "Does that mean Arizona is out? I've always wanted to live in the desert…"

Kurt lifted up his head and shot Blaine a Look, and then smiled as he realized they were once again talking about their futures in conjunction with each other. He kissed his cheek as Blaine smiled back, surprised at themselves, but comfortable with the ease of the plans. Kurt returned his head to its position on Blaine's chest, and they just listened to each other breathe in the finally-cool air.

They fell asleep on top of the covers (it was still fairly warm, after all), and Blaine decidedly did not make it out of the house by curfew. Whatever punishment they faced (and it probably wouldn't be too bad, really), it was worth it to spend their first (innocent and _sober)_ night together; the first of many, many to follow.


	2. Chapter 2

Somehow, Blaine always seemed to find himself at the Hummel house when the weather went a little wonky.

He's sitting alone in the living room, dark save for the soft glow of the tree lights behind him, as his 36th Christmas approaches. The dim flicker of _It's a Wonderful Life_ on mute dances in the background and is reflected in the window that Blaine has his forehead pressed against. The glass is cool and calming on his skin, but his hot breaths make little clouds on the pane every time he exhales. He's counting down the minutes to midnight as the sounds of a sleeping, overcrowded house breathe around him.

There's more snow out there than he's ever seen, he thinks, and he must be right because the sentiment was voiced earlier today by the rest of the family, too. (Although remembering weather can be a funny thing—it's always the most or the worst or the best or the hottest or the coldest. The reality of it doesn't really matter—just that events are collectively marked by what the sky was doing.) The just-cleared driveway and walk already have perfect and untouched blankets coating them again, and the drifts are starting to look like clouds rather than waves. The cars are completely covered and the bushes lining the sidewalk are nearly invisible. The snow looks hard and real piled halfway up the stop sign like that, but soft and fantasy-like heaped on the bowing evergreen boughs. He can hear the deafening silence even inside, and it's reassuring and terrifying all at once. It's still coming down hard, driving determinately from the black abyss above to the white abyss below. The street lamps and neighbors' twinkle-lights are fuzzy and obscured, with an ethereal quality that Blaine can't decide if he finds beautiful or haunting. Probably both, as juxtaposition seems to have defined this holiday so far.

He hears the creak of the staircase just as he hears the words "Blaine, son?" and turns with a start to see his father-in-law robe-clad and barefoot.

"Oh, hello Burt. Scared me," he says as his heart rate slows again.

"What're you doing awake? You know those grandkids of mine will have you up bright and early, clamoring for their presents," Burt says with a knowing smile.

Blaine shakes his head slightly. "Trust me, I know," he chuckles. "I'm headed up soon. Kurt and I just finished laying out the Santa presents and I didn't feel too tired yet. Just enjoying some Christmas quiet. And you?" he asks with raised brows.

"Eh, couldn't sleep," Burt responds. "Care to join me for some late-night cookies and milk, Santa Claus? Don't tell Kurt or Carole," he adds. Blaine smiles—he knows Kurt still kept tabs on his father's health even from New York.

"Of course, Burt," Blaine says politely, but also because he respects Burt and could use some company and damnit, he wants chocolate. They pad their way into the kitchen, making quiet haste of the Tupperware and milk carton, and end up settling on opposite sides of the table, silently crumbing and dunking and crunching.

"Blaine, I know it's probably none of my business, but I want you to know that I know that Kurt's partly responsible for your moods this weekend, too. I've been watching him. Don't think I'm just blaming you. Don't think that I'm not, either, though. I've been watching you, too."

Blaine looks down, face red and hot and embarrassed. He was hoping no one had been able to tell they were out of sorts with each other: Finn was too oblivious, Rachel was too self-absorbed, and Carole was too ecstatic at seeing her grandchildren to notice. He'd forgotten to rule out Burt. And it wasn't like it was a big deal, either. They were mostly fine, and Blaine forget what had even sparked their mutual annoyances in the first place, but he did know he didn't like feeling distant from his husband, especially on Christmas. "I—I, I um, I'm sorry you had to see that, we're not, everything's fine, please don't get the wrong idea," he half-whimpers uselessly.

Burt looks sorry he brought it up. "I know you're fine. Nothing could ever get between the two of you. I just thought you might like to talk about it…"

It had been a busy several weeks for both of them, a busy couple of months, really. Blaine was wrapping up perhaps the biggest case of his career thus far, and Kurt had had magazine deadline after deadline that would not let up. The kids always had birthday parties to go to, or were sick, or needed to be picked up from school, or were up half the night with bad dreams or _something. _And the elevator in their building had been broken for two weeks, which was not good for anybody's nerves, and Blaine himself had had a bad cold that he was just now shaking. And they had felt fine, just a little frazzled, but figured they would catch up with each other after the holidays. Besides, they still had minutes here and there. A dinner together on their anniversary when Rachel and Finn had taken Avery, Marina and Jack for a sleepover, the two hours in the ER waiting room when Blaine was sick, quickies in Kurt's office, in the shower, in Blaine's office, late at night before they would fall into bed, exhausted. They always remembered to say their I love yous and to share a peck before they left each other and to let their fingertips ghost over cheeks, wrists, backs whenever they could.

But they were going too fast and were bound to crash and they both knew it but couldn't quite figure out how to stop or even slow down. Blaine knew that he, and suspected that Kurt, was hoping to use the upcoming few days in Ohio to chill and love and talk and hold. But their newly found roles as functional partners in a dance of logistics was too easy to fall into, and they forgot.

On December 23rd the small family, all five of them, had arrived back at their apartment at the same time only about an hour before they were supposed to be leaving for the airport for Lima; Blaine with his tie undone and feet dragging from the courthouse, Kurt's eyes bloodshot and drooping from a photo shoot, and the kids hungry and whining and buggy from the anticipation of Christmas, dropped off by a babysitter.

"Hon, where did you put their suitcases?" Kurt called from the girls' room to Blaine, who was in the kitchen getting Jack a snack.

"Well, I think they're in the closet like usual…Hey listen, I'm going to call a cab. It's almost rush hour—we're going to be late," he hollered back.

Kurt walked slowly into the kitchen. "Blaine, why would they be in the closet?" his tone slowly rising into a high-pitched warning. "Didn't you pack them?"

"What?" Blain mumbled back distractedly, trying to get Jack to cooperate, despite his terrible-twos attitude. "Why would I? You said you were going to do it."

"No, you said you were. Blaine! This is ridiculous."

"Don't snap at me, Kurt. No, last night, you said you were going to do it."

"No, I said I would be cutting it close getting home and could _you _please do it," Kurt groaned.

"No, I—maybe. I don't remember. I'm sorry. One of us has to do it quick, though," he motioned to his busy hands, still trying to coerce some food into Jack's mouth.

"Airplane!" he squealed. Both of his fathers smiled.

"It's fine," Kurt sighed. "I'll do it. I don't know _how _I'm going to coordinate their outfits properly with such little time, though…" he mumbled as he spun around back into the bedroom.

And they'd both brushed it off, done and over with, a simple misunderstanding. But even though Blaine did call a cab, he had to pay it to idle, waiting, while the two of them rushed around getting things in order. Timing would have been tight even without the packing needing to be done, and in a household full of toddlers, chaos was usually the default setting anyway.

"Papa, Abbery was mean to me!" Marina shouted while Kurt rummaged through the laundry to find the perfect shirt to match the pants he'd just packed Jack.

"Nuh-uh, Papa, I wasn't!" Avery whined back. "Marney drinked my juice, so I just took one a' her aminal crackers!"

Kurt turned around, hands on his hips, wearing his child-friendly version of the patented _bitch, please _face. "Girls. Coats. Now. Then go sit by the door and wait patiently and _quietly _for Daddy and I. Got it?"

The girls looked at each other. They knew better than to cross their Papa. "Yes," they replied.

"Good. Now go," he shooed the four-year-olds away.

It took another 20 minutes of wasted taxi fare, but they eventually had their suitcases, their children and themselves packed in. Kurt and Blaine slammed their doors simultaneously, and looked at each other, relieved, before Kurt blurted out "La Guardia," just as Blaine said "JFK, please," the driver looking uncomfortable through the rear-view mirror. The men's glances turned from relieved to confused to annoyed again quickly, and another five minutes were spent checking iPhones for confirmation numbers and boarding passes.

They were late, very late, pulling into JFK, Blaine looking just a little too smug, with only 15 minutes until their scheduled departure time. There was cursing and suitcase-banging and little girls with wide eyes and stifled giggles at their Daddy's wild curls and their Papa's wild mouth. They ran and rushed and dragged and carried themselves, checking bags and making it through security in record time. But just as Kurt finished tying his perfectly classy shoes and Blaine zipped up Marina's coat, an announcement of weather delays reached their ears. A quick check and it was confirmed: snow was pounding Ohio, and it would be hours before they could leave (So much for rushing to the airport). They exchanged more glances, still not totally completely cool with each other, but knowing they were also the only comrades they'd got. And just because they were mad at each other didn't mean they had lost the ability to talk with their (defeated and downtrodden) eyes. Kurt nodded.

Blaine stood up, snatched Marina's and Avery's hands as Kurt scooped up Jack (with a giggle and a "Papaaa!") and said "You know what? We're getting ice cream."

The twins and Jack-Jack cheered, not believing their luck. "It's only because it's Christmas," Kurt warned.

(But even a nice treat for the kids put a damper on their moods. Ice cream is sticky and messy and glommy and melts when little boys and girls don't listen to their daddies and sit down and _just eat it already _instead of chasing each other around the tiny terminal-side restaurant.)

Eventually, they found a spot near their gate to camp out at for a while. They have a good view of the arrivals and departures board, there are enough outlets for phones, the bathroom is just across the hall, and only Kurt and Marina end up sitting on the floor. Maybe the wait won't be so bad after all—the five of them end up laughing and joking at enjoying the beginning of their vacation together. Blaine watches Kurt entertaining his children and something catches in his throat. He quickly catches and grips Kurt's hand for a second, making them both smile.

They are delayed another three times, and they can see it's starting to snow outside here too. The silent TV is telling them it's only getting worse further west. Ice cream can't hold growing bellies for very long, and by the time their (11 o'clock, originally scheduled for five) flight takes off, Kurt, Blaine, Avery, Marina and Jack are all headed for a meltdown.

Burt met them at the airport in Ohio with a tired grin and bear hugs all around. By the time they finally reach Gamma and Gampa's house it's almost two ("This is the latest I've ever stayed up!" Marina proudly declares) and there's no time for sleeping bags or portable cribs or even to unpack. All five of them fall unceremoniously onto Kurt's childhood bed, half-clothed and limbs tangled.

Blaine wakes early with a foot to his rib and an elbow to his nose. The light is dappling across the bed from the sheer curtains, and it's glowing and gray enough that he can tell it's still snowing. He's torn between waiting here, with the hot breath of his husband on his ear, to watch his family sleep, and getting up to give them some more room and get himself a shower and some coffee. A sharp _smack _to his shin as Jack flips over makes his decision for him and he rolls ninja-like onto the carpet below.

Kurt's head appears above the jumble of blankets. "Blai—mmwha's?"

Blaine is still kneeling rather foolishly on the floor and smiles at his sleepy and disoriented Kurt. "Shh, go back to sleep, baby." Kurt obeys, his eyes fluttering shut before his head flops against the pillows again. He slips into the bathroom.

After a hot and admittedly long shower, he's rubbing a towel against his wet hair and pulling his jeans on, still in a heap from where he tossed them before passing out last night. For the third time that weekend, Blaine is struck by just how perfect his family is. Kurt is flawless and porcelain, laying diagonal across the mattress, arm hanging askew off the side. The view is a nice throwback to the countless times he'd admired Kurt in that very position, in that very bed, when they were young. Unlike then, though, there were now three extra occupants. Marina has her head buried right up against her Papa's chest, breathing deeply, auburn hair splayed everywhere. Jack is exactly perpendicular to his sister, and Blaine sees how he was so abused earlier. His hair is sweaty and plastered to his head, in the way sleeping boys' hair tends to do, lips parted and cheeks flushed, typically overheated and excited, even in sleep. At first, Blaine wonders if Avery had escaped downstairs to see her grandparents while he was in the shower, until he sees a small pair of feet poking their way out of the covers between Jack and Marina. She's managed to turn herself completely around, head partially hidden under the covers. He sees her hair, identical to Marina's, far enough down the bed to tickle Kurt's feet if she wiggled a little. He has to resist the urge to run over, scoop them all up, kiss them and hold them and love them and never let go. He and Kurt have worked so hard for this family, and he wouldn't give them up for anything. Blaine hopes they can put the frustrations of the past few days behind them and just enjoy their Christmas together.

A cackle-like laugh from downstairs breaks him out of his reverie. _Ah. Rachel, _he thinks. She and Finn and their 6-year-old daughter Alexa had arrived early the day before. He rolls his eyes, finishes dressing, and follows the smell of breakfast.

The 24th has always been one of Blaine's favorite days of the Christmas holiday—everyone's already together and celebrating, but there's still so much anticipation and upcoming excitement, there's no danger of energy levels dropping. But today he's just not feeling it as much as usual. Kurt and kids had woken up excited to see their grandparents and cousins and brother, but he still couldn't shake the feeling that he was having a harder time than usual catching Kurt's eye.

He really, really loves his in-laws and the way he's always been accepted into the fold. But Finn can be thick. And regular Rachel is difficult, but pregnant Rachel is down-right grating. This was the first year Jack was really old enough to join the gaggle of screaming children rushing around with a mob mentality, and the cousins just egg each other on. Usually, such a sight would warm Blaine's heart, but today he can't figure out why the distinct sound of children's laughter is just jarring.

They sit around and reminisce and cook slowly and laugh and trade stories and Blaine even gets to run his hand along Kurt's leg once and lets Kurt rub softly at the curls at the nape of his neck. But the little things get to him more.

Kurt burns his arm on the oven and swears, starting a small disagreement between Rachel and Kurt about language in front of the children. (Kurt has never been one to censor himself, and he's not about to do it in front of the people he's supposed to be teaching to love and accept themselves. Besides, it's not like he does it that often. Usually.) Blaine mistakes Marina for Avery from the back, which sparks an over-dramatic tantrum from Marina but makes him feel terribly guilty all the same.

Burt and Finn are sour because their team lost the game. Alexa, Avery and Marina argue over who has the best dolls, and all three end up with scratches but no one can quite remember how they got there…("It was probably a cat, Gampa," Marina says to a man who hasn't had an animal in his house since his 8-year-old son deemed them "filthy.") Rachel pouts because she can't go caroling due to the still-accumulating snow.

Blaine has also made plans to go see his parents, the first time in almost three years, since before Jack was born. They've been less than ecstatic about their son's "lifestyle choices," but not exactly hostile either, so they mostly try to keep the children clear of such negative energy. But Blaine knows they are still his parents, and some part of him loves them unconditionally if only for their genetic ties, and they are getting older, and so he tries when he can. But it's not that fun, and the hour drive there and back looms with the clouds growing darker still and the plows having a hard time keeping up. He has to borrow Burt's truck, something he's hesitant to do in the first place, as he hasn't driven in over a year living in the city, and the added obstacle of all the frozen-ness everywhere just makes the task seem even more high-stress.

The visit is cordial, formal, made up of exchanges of updates on old acquaintances and comments about how Cooper couldn't get away from his work in California and Blaine flipping through pictures of his kids on his phone. ("It was just too hard to get them all to Westerville in this snow," Blaine lies; and "You know, I might be travelling to New York in the Spring. I'll have to stop by," his father lamely offers.) At twilight he makes a passing gesture to the still-growing mounds outside as he leaves with a shake of his father's hand and a kiss to his mother's cheek, feeling like he's checked something off a to-do list. The highways aren't _too _bad, but the backstreets of Lima are slippery and he pulls into the Hudmel driveway impressed that it seems somewhat shoveled, but confused as the why there's still a large strip left untouched.

His questions are offered an explanation as he walks through the door, shaking the flakes from his curls and stomping the pack from his boots. Kurt is perched on the couch, his foot iced and resting on a pillow on the coffee table, with Finn looking sheepish nearby.

"Babe, what happened? Are you ok?" Blaine tripped out of his boots and padded across the carpet to his husband.

"Papa go boom!" Jack shouted, and then plopped himself to the ground on his diapered behind.

"Something like that. Finn and I had a bit of a mishap while shoveling," Kurt said.

"Are you alright? Do we need to get you to the hospital? Look, the highways aren't that bad, we can make it, and—"

"No, Blaine, it's fine," Kurt sighed. "I just want to sit here with my family for a little while, okay?"

"Are you sure? Because Kurt, you can't—"

"No, Blaine." Kurt sounded tired and final and annoyed.

"Just trying to help," he muttered under his breath, earning an eye roll from Kurt and a raised eyebrow from Burt. Blaine didn't understand why things were so on edge, especially on Christmas. Like Kurt said, they all only wanted to spend time together, but it wasn't fun if it was going to be like this.

Kurt and Blaine sort of avoided each other for the rest of the evening, with Kurt on kid duty in the living room so he could rest his ankle and Blaine helping fix the lasagna that was on the menu for pre-Christmas dinner. They all watch the animated Rudolph special on TV together, and even sing a round of "Silent Night" as Carole plucks away on the small piano. But as Blaine tries to send their secret smile across the room to Kurt at "all was calm, all was bright," he finds his other half instead smiling at Rachel, and worries at why they're not on the same wave-length.

The two bestie-singers are still conspiring an hour later when it's time for the kids to go to bed, so somehow Blaine is left to his own devices in getting his three children bathed and to sleep on Christmas Eve. It's a struggle from the beginning.

"Daddy, Alexa gets to stay up for way longer than us! It's not even fair!"

"Alexa is two years older than you. C'mon, up the stairs."

"Daddy, I want to stay up to see Santa Claus!"

"You know Santa won't come until you're sleeping. Into the bath you go."

"Splash! Splash!"

"No, Jack, Daddy's too tired to play the splash game."

Avery looks up at Blaine through her long dark eyelashes and gives a snarly face to rival her Papa, but it's hard for Blaine to take her seriously with the pile of bubbles stacked on her head. "Daddy, why are you so mad? It's Christmas. What did we do wrong?"

Blaine feels like the wind has been knocked out of him. He can't breathe, can't see, wants to throw up and cry and scream all at the same time. He scoops her up, suds and all, and begins to kiss her face everywhere. "Nothing baby, my beautiful, beautiful baby. You've done nothing wrong, and I'm not mad at you or at anybody." He returns her to the tub and looks at all three of his children. "I'm just tired because of the travelling and the snow. But I promise tomorrow is going to be the best Christmas ever."

They all nod wisely and Jack uses the moment to dump an unusually big splash on Blaine's jeans.

Ten minutes later, as they're finally getting tucked into the sleeping bags someone set up earlier, Marina hugs her Daddy tight and whispers in his ear:

"Is it hard to be a grown-up?"

Blaine's heart melts and he kisses the crown of her head. "Sometimes, sweetie. But when I see you and Papa and your brother and sister, it's all better." He turned off the light and addressed the rest of them. "Now go to sleep or Santa won't come. I love you; goodnight!"

"Merry Christmas, Daddy!" they chorused, and Blaine could hear all of their breathing deepen as he clicked the door closed.

Downstairs, he found everyone else was gone too, save for his mildly injured husband who was limping around the room turning off the lights, which only serves to highlight the still-falling snow. "They're down," Blaine whispers. "You ready, Santa?"

Kurt and Blaine silently move the toys and presents from the hallway closet to the living room and arrange them nicely under the tree, only speaking to offer a comment on wrapping paper or grunt with the effort of picking up a particularly heavy Barbie Dream House. When they're done, the place looks like a dream with the twinkling lights and the darkness and the fantasy land outside.

"I'm going up," Kurt motions towards the stairs. "Coming?"

Blaine shook his head. "Not yet." Kurt kissed his forehead warmly and turned with a slight wince.

Which is how Blaine found himself wallowing in his own melancholia on Christmas Eve with the rest of the house peacefully slumbering around him. He only meant to watch the snowfall for a few minutes, but by the time he hears Burt on the stairs, Blaine realizes it's been almost two hours.

"Anything happen in particular?" Burt asks around a mouthful of reindeer cookie.

Blaine sighs and rubs his hand over his face. "No, not that I can remember. It's just too fast and too much. I think we've just been taking each other for granted."

"Yeah, kid, I get that. Elizabeth and I went through the same thing. Just be glad it's not cancer that's your wake-up call."

Blaine stared at Burt, eyes wide, horror-stricken. "My God, Burt, I'm so sorry, I know our problems aren't nearly as bad as that, I just—"

"No, no, I didn't mean to startle you. That's not what I meant," Burt chuckled. "I just meant that I'm glad we had our time together, and that Carole and I now know how precarious life is—but we're old. You guys are lucky you got to figure this out so young."

"Yeah. Thanks Burt. I think, I think I need to go talk to him. Merry Christmas." Blaine made to put his dish in the sink.

"I got this, kid," Burt said. "You just go make sure my son knows what you're thinking. 'Night."

When Blaine carefully creaks open the door to Kurt's room, he sees that someone has made their way into the big bed from the sleeping bags and has curled up against their Papa's softly snoring form. He quickly changes and brushes his teeth, trying to make minimal noise, before transferring the unidentified child back to her (he realizes it's Marina) sleeping bag and slides into bed next to his husband.

"Hrm? Is it morning already?" Kurt asks, sleepily confused for the second time that day.

"Shh, no, I'm just coming to bed," Blaine breathed as he wiggled in for warmth.

"Hmmm," Kurt gave as way of response, and scooted over a bit to make room.

"No, c'mere," Blaine said and wrapped his arms around Kurt's torso. He pulled him closer so they were lying with Blaine as the big spoon, and gently placed a soft kiss on his temple. "I want to hold you. And talk to you."

Kurt turned so they were face to face. "Ok. Shoot."

"I'm sorry we've been sort of disconnected this weekend. It's Christmas and I don't want us to fight. Actually, I'm sorry we've been sort of disconnected over the last couple of months. I don't want us to fight ever. I love you, Kurt. You're the father of my children and my partner in crime and my best friend and the best lover anyone could ask for, and I don't want to lose sight of all that just because our lives can be a little hectic sometimes. And I know it's partly my fault and I'm just so sorry. I just love you so much." Blaine's voice sounded far away and desperate in the dark room.

Kurt lifted finger to wipe away the bead of a tear forming on Blaine's cheek. "Honey, I know. It's ok. I'm sorry too. I love you. God, I love you so much. I should have been more patient the last few weeks, tried harder. You and the kids are my everything, and without you I wouldn't even have them. Don't cry. Tomorrow is Christmas, let's just make it good, okay?"

" 'Kay," Blaine sniffled. He felt like they were teenagers again, comforting each other after a run-in with a bully, and being in Kurt's old room only amplified the illusion.

Kurt rubbed their noses together. "Go to sleep."

The next morning dawns too early for Blaine's liking. He's shoved into consciousness by the sudden weight of a toddler on his stomach, and the gauzy light streaming in tells him that God, it's _still _snowing. "Oomph," he grunts at the unexpected mass.

Marina and Avery are running in circles around the room, screaming things like "Wake up Daddy and Papa! It's Christmas!" and "I be Santa brought me a horse! I bet he did! I think I can hear it in the living room now!", while Jack was just jumping onto any open surface, including Blaine's stomach, shouting like a banshee and trying to keep up with the noise level of his sisters.

After warnings about not waking up Gammy and Gampa, the family made their way downstairs to see that the fears were unfounded. The rest of them were already seated around the tree, and Alexa looked as if she were going to die of relief when her cousins rushed to join her near the pile.

They spent hours just hanging out, the kids and their new toys, the adults and their new sweaters and technological gadgets. Kurt and Blaine took turns perched on the other's knee, or side by side holding hands, or with one gently rubbing his fingertips over the other's back, or just pressed thigh to thigh, peacefully watching their children go crazy.

And it snowed. Truly, _truly _more than any of them had seen. ("Goddamned climate change," Burt grumbled.) They watched it come down while they cleaned up the wrapping paper, while they decorated more cookies, while they feasted on roast beast [;)]. In the end, the Hummel-Anderson's flight is postponed another two days.

A few days ago, Blaine would have seen this as an annoying and inconvenient turn of events, but now, he welcomes the delay in stride as more time to spend with his family and husband and children. They pass the next few days more calmly than Blaine can remember doing in 10 or more years, and when they finally board the plane back to New York, it's with contented hearts and minds, ready to take on the world together all over again.


End file.
